


no matter the season (my heart sings for you)

by authoressjean



Series: the changed future [16]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, So this is as close to schmoop and fluff as I get, Yule, holiday feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: Post "to rule the fate of many".The first winter after the battle has come to Erebor, and with it a determination to celebrate the holiday of Yule with the newer dwarf holiday of Lukhudfest from the Blue Mountains. All of the mountain, and its occupants, are eager to celebrate peace with garlands, mistletoe, food, and candles everywhere.In the midst of this joy, though, there is heartbreak and unease for those lost and a battle that one hobbit just can't forget.Good thing his husband and kin are determined to make this holiday a merry and bright one.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bofur/Esmeralda, Dwalin/Ori, Fili/Dernwyn (OC), Legolas & Gimli, Legolas/Kíli, Tauriel & Gimli
Series: the changed future [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/44514
Comments: 78
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um. Hi. I bet nobody expected this from me, did they? Welp. Happy holidays y'all! This is absolutely dedicated to everyone who's read my 'verse and wished for more. Your comments have kept me going through some tough times; thank you. This is for you.
> 
> Okay. A few things.
> 
> If you haven't read my enormous series you don't have to for the most part: this is a holiday fic where the dwarves in Erebor, along with Bilbo who married Thorin and Legolas who married Kili and Fili who married a young shieldmaiden named Dernwyn, live together. There was a large battle in which Thorin, Legolas, and Fili nearly died. Nearly being the key word. Bofur and Esmeralda Took are young and very in love like the sappy trouble-making individuals they are. (Saradoc had married Esse but he died by orcs defending Esse, who was unknowingly pregnant with Merry at the time.) I think I covered all the important points.
> 
> This is set between "to rule the fate of many" and "you hide in your garden (but you are not alone)" and in fact leads directly into the latter fic. Technically, this happens before the last chapter of "to rule the fate of many" but is its own fic. 
> 
> "Lukhudfest" is absolutely my own invention: as much as Tolkien outlined a beautiful calendar for Elves and Hobbits (in which Hobbits celebrate two Yules, one day following the other, because of course they did), he had nothing for the dwarves except for Durin's Day which is typically in October somewhere. "Lukhud" is Khudzul for "light" so I'm saying that the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, upon meeting and trading with hobbits and folk of Bree, learned about Yule and adopted a holiday for themselves. 
> 
> Messing with canon ought to be my formal trademark at this point. Y'all know the drill.
> 
> So. Please accept this absolutely ridiculous and fluffy look at the many individuals of Erebor as they celebrate Lukhudfest and Yule.

Snow fell on the mountain, a cleansing snow that helped remove the memory of blood and death and being held for ransom. The dwarves within took advantage of the snow to step outside as often as they could, to play, to wander, to haul in bucket after bucket for ice chests and fresh water.

It coincided nicely with the upcoming holiday of Lukhudfest, one that hadn’t been celebrated throughout the mountain officially since it had been retaken from Smaug. However, several dwarves choosing to celebrate became several more, and soon the idea of the holiday spread through Erebor like fire. King Thorin made the official announcement a few days later, welcoming the mountain and its neighbors to a Lukhudfest festival the likes of which had never been seen.

The elves and several willing dwarves went into the nearby forest for green limbs and boughs to make wreaths and garlands. Bonfires were set throughout the mountain, keeping it warm and dry. Crystals were hung everywhere to mimic the falling snow. Fresh candles were set out to stay lit, giving the mountain a constant ethereal glow.

Everyone found themselves filled with joy and hope, but more than that, they found themselves very busy. Including, perhaps especially, one hobbit, who had been too quiet following the battle in front of Erebor, which had been King Thorin’s plan all along.

If one more dwarf joined him in the main room, Bilbo was going to throw a fit.

He understood Dwalin. With Balin gone, Dwalin had taken to tailing Thorin and Bilbo when he wasn’t with Ori, spending his time with Fili and Dernwyn’s brood, anything to not be alone. Above all the rest, however, he stayed with Bilbo. Which honestly wasn’t fair, because Thorin had been the one who’d almost died, and yet Dwalin shadowed him like he was going to run off again. Or be taken again. Or disappear-

All right, fine, perhaps Dwalin had a good reason to stay with him. Still, sometimes Bilbo felt a bit smothered. There needed to be a place here in the mountain that Bilbo could perhaps claim as his own, somewhere out of the way where the dwarves wouldn’t find it. Or at least would leave him be and pretend they didn’t know where he was.

He’d been dragged down to the main room by Ori, who’d asked for his help with coming up with some blessings to place in the large wreath that would hang in the feast hall. As soon as Bilbo had sat down, however, Dori had come in with fabric and jewels and “busy-work, don’t mind me,” and Dernwyn had settled in by the hearth, cradling Baldrin in her arms, looking to “just rest my feet for a bit,” and Dwalin had taken up a seat in one corner with no excuses and had just sat and waited.

He could have fought it. But in some ways, it was quite humbling, truly, for all of them to be so concerned about, and wanting to spend with, well, _him_. So the first blessing he’d told Ori had been _family_.

After having been surrounded for about half an hour of everyone, however, he’d added a blessing of _peace and quiet_ but his hint had been promptly ignored.

Bilbo had come to well understand that dwarves understood far more than they wanted to. They just chose which things to hear and which to ignore. So he had learned to do much the same, which was why he was currently working on his own wreath for his and Thorin’s room while letting Ori work on the one for the main hall. So far, there’d been silence, even if it hadn’t been alone silence.

Which was, of course, when the silence was broken.

"Do hobbits have holidays?"

Bilbo slowly straightened and turned to Ori with an incredulous look. "I cannot believe you of all people asked me that," he said. From the corner, Dwalin snorted.

Ori made a face. "I don't mean the days you take off whenever you feel like celebrating and eating a lot. I mean actual holidays set into the calendar. Like our Durin's Day, or our Lukhudfest."

"Technically, Lukhudfest is a newer sort of holiday," Dori called from his corner. He was still weaving ribbons this way and that, ensuring that jewels hung just so from the fabric's finery. "It was never really celebrated here in the mountain. In fact, it may very well have begun in the Blue Mountains, now that I think about it. We simply celebrated Durin's Day before that."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Bilbo said. "It correlates very well with our Yuletide. I wonder if our Yule inspired it, actually. We began receiving dwarves as visitors and merchants not long after the year Smaug desolated the mountain." It was funny to think that their little Yule had inspired something as grand as the Lukhudfest. What a notion.

He had to admit, it was a nice reminder of the Shire, however. With the bonfires going everywhere and the wreaths hung this way and that, it was hard _not_ to think of the Shire's Yuletide practices. Especially with the baking going on downstairs. Bombur was a dwarf possessed and asking everyone for their recipes. And Bilbo really did mean everyone. He'd asked Bard when the man had come to the mountain two days ago, and Bard's daughters had happily supplied their favorite treats. Bombur had had them made for taste testing before the day had been through, and only once Sigrid and Tilda had confirmed their value had he been satisfied.

He turned back to his wreath, then paused when Dernwyn spoke up. "Yule? Is that what you also call it?"

"Also?" Ori asked, but Bilbo perked up.

"Yes! Two days of feasting and celebrating and-"

"Families that sing old familiar tunes with special candles, wreaths, and tall trees strung up with as many baubles as you can find?"

Bilbo could feel his smile all but splitting his face. "You celebrate Yule, too?"

"Perhaps not exactly in the same fashion," Dernwyn admitted. "But the Rohirrim have a Yule custom that is shared. We craft gifts and share them on Yuletide Day. I've not heard the name Yule in a great long while."

"We feast, primarily," Bilbo said, and ignored Dwalin's comment that sounded to the effect of, "There's a surprise," or some such nonsense. "But we do also craft gifts and hand them out. Usually small things, such as scarves, mittens, a hat, or baked goods such as chocolates and biscuits. Those sorts of things."

"The Rohirrim typically prepare for quite some time and only gift to one person, or perhaps to individuals within your family," Dernwyn said. "The King would give a gift to all of some coinage, and then host a great feast in the throne hall. It was lovely and always full of cheer."

Ori appeared to no longer be writing down Lukhudfest blessings to put in the wreaths but instead notes about their Yule days. "How long did your Yule go for?" he asked.

"One day," Dernwyn replied, even as Bilbo responded with, "Six days."

Dernwyn turned to him with raised eyebrows. " _Six_? I thought you said two!"

"Two for Yule," Bilbo corrected. "Two before Yule, and then two after Yule."

"Of course," Dernwyn said, and she didn't sound at all surprised anymore. Bilbo stuck his tongue out at her, earning a grin.

Honestly. There was simply no respect.

"A hobbit, tryin' to use a holiday to extend days of feastin' and celebratin'? I never," Dwalin said, attempting to sound shocked and failing utterly at it. Bilbo didn't even look, simply took one of the longer branches beside him and heaved it back at the dwarf. From the chuckle he got, he hadn't exactly been very precise, but he had at least gotten the amusement he'd been looking for.

"I think we should incorporate Yule into our own celebrations," Ori said. "I think it's a lovely idea. We should take the hobbit Yule and the Rohan Yule and use them both."

"You'd have to find trees," Dernwyn said. "We usually bring them into the home, but we'll decorate any other trees we find."

"There's always the forest," Dori pointed out. "I'm certain Legolas would know the best places for trees that could handle the weight of baubles."

"What about treats? We used to make little rolls with fruits."

"Peppermint sticks," Bilbo offered. "We'd make peppermint sticks with little hooks so as to hang them everywhere we could. Those besotted with each other would often hang them behind each other's ears. It became a sort of game. Well. That and the mistletoe."

Dernwyn frowned. "Mistletoe? Isn't that a plant?"

"It is. We, um. It's a silly tradition." Bilbo shrugged. "A very hobbit sort of tradition, what with it being a flowering plant." 

Ori waited expectantly, quill at the ready. Dernwyn had sat up straighter, and Bilbo spotted Dwalin and Dori both waiting as well. He sighed and put his wreath in his lap. "Mistletoe is typically broken into a few leaves and the little white flowering pieces. Then, it's hung in a doorway, or somewhere else to easily catch two unsuspecting people. When they're underneath it together, the tradition is to kiss."

Ori had a daffy grin on his face, and Dernwyn looked thoughtful. "I suppose there's some who 'accidentally' wind up beneath the mistletoe together," Dwalin drawled.

"Of course! That's half the fun, or so I've heard," Bilbo said, shaking his head. "Esse used to wait for hours underneath the mistletoe in the hopes of dragging some random person into a smooch. She usually only got her father who would obligingly place a kiss upon her brow and tell her she was a dear heart. Not exactly what she was looking for, but she took it." Bilbo had given her a peck or two upon the cheek to try and make his cousin happy, and he'd usually gotten a quick embrace for his efforts.

Dori raised an eyebrow. "So you've heard?"

Bilbo scowled at him. "Yes, so I've heard."

"You've never been beneath the mistletoe?"

"No," Bilbo lied. "Never. Never had anyone to meet." There was no need to discuss how he'd waited a full evening in the doorway at his cousin's party for a young lass who'd promised she'd come and give him a mistletoe kiss. Or how he'd been fooled into doing it a few years later by a young lad, and he'd waited and waited by himself all night long. So he supposed it wasn't really so much a lie as much as it was a stretch of the truth. He'd never had anyone to meet, not really. He'd only thought he had.

"What is mistletoe?" Ori asked. "What kind of plant? You said flowers, is it a flower?"

"Actually, it is a draining plant," Legolas said, coming into the room. "Sort of a small bush that attaches to another plant and drains its nutrients. Dreadful nuisance, but a lovely thing to look at."

"That's horrible!" Dori said, wide eyed. " _That's_ what you use?"

"Why do you think the tradition started? We had plenty of it lying about after we'd cut it off trees and what-not, and it was pretty!" Bilbo defended, a little embarrassed at Legolas's description. Which, speaking of... "Legolas, are you well? Your cheeks look a little flushed."

"Perfectly," the elf said, and he bounced on his feet. "Absolutely and perfectly well. That is probably an unfortunate side effect of sliding down the banisters in the great hall."

"He's _fantastic_ ," Kili said, stepping into the room and nearly running into Legolas. He grinned and did it again on purpose, making certain to knock into his husband with a long-armed embrace, and Legolas grinned from ear to ear.

Bilbo began to very much wish he were elsewhere and alone again. "What happened to you two?" Dernwyn asked, perplexed.

"Sugar loaves!" Kili said. "Legolas had one for the first time _ever_. Oh, and I'm not supposed to tell you that Fili's had four."

"Holdred and Lili have both had three each," Dernwyn said with a raised eyebrow. "They were very cute biscuits but I held them to three apiece."

"No, no no, not the biscuits," Kili said, as if she were deaf or slow of learning. "I mean the sugar _loaves_."

Bilbo's eyes went round. "You mean the entire loaf that Bombur cuts the biscuits out of?"

"It was delicious," Legolas said, fingers drumming against his sides. "Very, very sugary and delicious. I could have another, truly I could."

"Oh Mahal," Dwalin said tonelessly, even as Bilbo began to wonder just how he could creep from the room before he had to deal with a sugar-hyped elf and his dwarf husband. 

Then it became apparent that it was even worse when Dernwyn managed to get out, "And Fili's had _four_?"

"That's it, I'm leaving," Bilbo said. He picked up his wreath as he went, and Dori wordlessly handed him a bow to place within it. He was nearly clear of the door by the time Kili started giggling, and there were little hitched breaths that sounded a great deal like Legolas. 

There were going to be words to Bombur about limits. _Limits_. Certain individuals needed to be limited.

Though hopefully there were a few left because Bilbo wouldn't mind a biscuit himself. There was really only way to combat that level of sugar, and that was to have enough of the stuff yourself.  
  


Bifur didn't even have to ask. Bombur knew that look. Knew it too well. "One," Bombur said firmly. "Been yelled at twice as it is."

Bifur chortled. Bombur waved his long spoon at him one more time before turning back to his mix. Hard to find all the pieces for what he wanted, but Dori had described the wistfulness in Bilbo's eyes. Peppermint candies, long curved sticks of them. Wasn't certain they'd be what he was used to, but Bombur was determined to try.

Anything Bilbo asked for, and he'd do. As best as he could at least. 

Bifur rapped his knuckles on the polished stone counter, and Bombur turned back to the dwarf. Bifur moved his hands in a swift progression, almost too swift for Bombur to keep up with. Already too much sugar in that one. _Tell me how to help, I want to do something._

"Bofur's nothin' for you then?" Bombur asked. Bifur shook his head.

Not a surprise. Bofur was wrapped up around Esmeralda tighter than any braid Bombur'd seen. Cute little couple. Insistent on helping her with anything she did around the mountain which, with little one carried about, was really a good thing. Tiny little bugger, already a mop of hair on his head enough to make any dwarf jealous.

Bifur rapped his knuckles again in exasperation, and Bombur finally sighed and handed him the mix he'd been stirring. "Keep that moving. If it settles, back up on the fire it goes."

Bifur took it and gave a general head nod from side to side, the way he usually did unless he concentrated and could nod forward. Bombur liked it side to side - it was different. Good different. And it meant Bifur was comfortable enough to be himself.

He checked on the sugar loaves - had to make another batch after Kili, Fili, and even _Legolas_ had torn through the last ones - and gave an approving nod. Only to turn back in time to see Bifur taste-testing the peppermint batch.

"Bilbo's," Bombur warned, and Bifur sighed but kept stirring. "Keep tryin' to ask what he wants, only thing he's said so far."

Bifur grunted and gave a one-handed message. _He's plenty of recipes. Think he wants to bake them himself._

"Probably."

_Does too much himself._

"'Course he does. Obnoxious. Supposed to let us do everythin'. He married the king - not supposed to do things like bake and cook and clean."  
Yet he'd do it anyway. No stopping him. Maybe it was the hobbit in him, Bombur didn't know. Esmeralda seemed pretty determined to do as she pleased anyway, but even Bilbo seemed to raise his eyebrow at her from time to time. Probably just an Esse thing.

Bilbo'd do anything for anyone. Helped Bombur out a time or two, even with royal feasts where he was to be one of the honored guests. Wouldn't have known it even an hour before the feast started, with him elbows deep in flour and chicken grease. Kind and warm to all, willing to do whatever it took, always willing to lend a hand no matter the task. Willing to risk his life on the battlefield he had no right being on just to try and save his husband.

Made Bombur all the more determined to do right by his friend. Even if it meant trying to turn a candy stick into a hook.

"Back on the stove," Bombur directed, even though Bifur was halfway to the flames already. "More to do. Move your arse."

Bifur's response was magnificent, and Bombur chuckled all the way to the pantry to try and find some of the fruits that had been brought in from the orchards. Dernwyn had fond memories of treats too, and Bombur was looking forward to the joy in her eyes when she saw his fruit pastries.

“…and a horse, not a pony, and a spear, and a sword, and a bag of sweets, and…”

Dis had long given up writing down her granddaughter’s list of wants. Dernwyn watched her mother with a grin as she sat and listened to Hildili’s continuous stream of wishes. Some of which Dernwyn was certain she was coming up with on the spot.

Finally, Holdred couldn’t stand it anymore. “You know you’re not getting any of those things, right?”

Hildili scowled at him. “Uncle Dwalin said I’ll have a sword all my own.”

“ _One day_ was what he said,” Dernwyn told her. At least, she hoped that was what Dwalin had told her. You never knew with Dwalin. “You will have a blade to call your own _one day_. Focus on the additional set of colored wax and sweets, Lili.”

“Those are boring,” Hildili complained, then immediately shot her eyes to Dis with panic. “But still on my list! Even boring things are on my list, don’t take them off!”

Dernwyn snorted, nearly loud enough to wake Baldrin in her arms. Thankfully, her youngest stayed asleep. At least he wouldn’t be asking for more than food whenever he wanted it and sleep as long as he wanted it.

“What about you, Holdred?” Dis asked. He’d been sitting at the table beside Dis, drawing something on parchment. Making a list of his own, perhaps; as mature as her oldest could be, Dernwyn wouldn’t put it past him to have written out his list of hopeful gifts that were just as elaborate and ridiculous as his sister’s.

Holdred shrugged. “Not a sword, that’s for certain.”

“An axe?” Hildili suggested. Dernwyn raised an eyebrow at her, then raised the other when Holdred looked thoughtful. Oh, that wasn’t happening.

“Maybe one like yours?” Holdred said, glancing at Dis, and oh, Dernwyn could just imagine Fili doing the exact same thing growing up: the innocent face, the subtle nudges, the flattery, and all with Kili encouraging behind him.

How Dis had managed to raise the two of them, Dernwyn had no idea. They were trouble and then some, and that was when they were full grown.

Dis merely gave him a look. “I would be happy to give you an axe that looks and wields like mine. When you’re old enough to do so.”

Hildili pouted. Holdred just shrugged again. “Then maybe a healer kit, like Oin has?”

Dernwyn paused. That was a first. “Like Oin?” she asked, trying to figure out where on earth this had come from. This wasn’t a new wooden riding toy or ball or wax colors, this was a very specific want.

“I like it,” Holdred told her. “I think what he does is wonderful. And he’s very nice.”

Well, that wouldn’t be too difficult to pull together. Dernwyn met Dis’s gaze and her mother nodded slightly. Good. “You would have to ask him how to use it all,” Dis pointed out.

“I know.”

One child sorted, then. “What about you, Lili?” Dis asked.

“I don’t want one of those,” Hildili said rather magnificently, like she was doing them a grand favor by not asking for a healer’s kit of her own.

Dis snorted and swept her up in a huge embrace, making Hildili squeal. “Come along, you two,” she said with a smile. “We’re going to leave your mother alone for a bit so she can rest with Baldrin.”

Holdred immediately slid out of his chair and hurried towards the door. “Can we go see Bombur?” he asked. That explained the excitement, then.

“No more than three biscuits apiece,” Dernwyn warned as she stood. After a long morning of decorating and dealing with little ones, she was ready for that nap. She wasn’t the young shieldmaiden she used to be.

Still could swing a sword and defend her husband on the battlefield, though. She doubted that would ever change.

She headed off to their private room and settled down into what was undoubtedly the best gift anyone could give a mother with a babe: a nap.

  
  
Four days before the big feast, Bilbo disappeared.

That was to say, Bilbo wasn’t in any of the usual spots that he ought to be. Bombur hadn’t seen him, he hadn’t been by to help Dori, and he wasn’t with the children. No one seemed to know where he’d gone.

Uncle Thorin immediately panicked and gathered the company to find him.

Fili personally thought that his uncle was worrying himself needlessly about Bilbo – his hobbit uncle knew better than to just up and vanish – but he had to admit, Bilbo’s melancholy had persisted in random bouts since the battle. Thorin had admitted to Bilbo only forgiving him recently for potentially leaving him a widower after the battle, so Fili knew the fight was still on Bilbo’s mind. And given Bilbo’s propensity for suddenly seeking places without anyone else in it, he had a good idea as to what was bothering his uncle about the skirmish.

“Skirmish” was, perhaps, the wrong term for it, given that there had been five armies more or less on Erebor’s doorstep, duking it out and bloodying the plains so thoroughly that they’d had to redo pathways and roads and bring dirt in from a neighboring hill or two. Whatever the term, it had very little to do with Fili’s current task: finding one Bilbo Baggins. And normally, it would’ve been an easy task. His uncle had several places he enjoyed frequenting. Each one, however, had turned up devoid of a hobbit.

Had it not been for the young dwarf maiden down in the markets who’d shared how she’d seen Bilbo earlier, heading down into the depths of Erebor near the mines, Fili would’ve thought him gone from the mountain entirely. As it was, Fili’s leg was starting to hurt from the long walk he’d taken thus far, and what on earth was Bilbo doing down in the _mines_?

He traversed further in and quickly found the path his uncle had taken. It wasn’t difficult: everyone knew Bilbo. And everyone he’d passed, from miner to jeweler to random dwarf, they all remembered having spoken to him and Bilbo being his usual kind and gracious self. Each one pointed Fili further in until he found himself down a corridor he didn’t think he’d ever been down before. It looked to have been a mining tunnel, wide for wheelbarrows and hewn straight from the rock itself. Lights beckoned him onward, and Fili followed them down until they opened into a wider cavern.

The room looked perhaps half the size of the banquet hall, not too large but not too small either. A long pathway wound down to the bottom of the cavern some distance beneath them, and the only thing between falling and not falling was your balance and some rocks carved into banisters, holes in the tops for ropes. It would be made into a living space, most likely, now that it was empty of any gleaming jewels or other precious commodities.

And there, seated along the edge of the pathway between two banisters, sat his uncle, hobbit feet dangling a decent height above the cavern’s floor. It didn’t make Fili particularly happy to see him so precariously perched. With that in mind, he approached cautiously so as not to startle Bilbo.

He needn’t have bothered. Bilbo glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow, and Fili almost made a face. He’d figured that he’d been quiet, but he’d well learned that a dwarf’s quiet was nowhere near an elf’s quiet. And neither of them had a thing on a hobbit’s idea of quiet.

“You do realize that everyone’s looking for you, right?”

Bilbo scowled something magnificent. “I _can_ look after myself,” he said, lips pinched tight. “And it’s Erebor, where in Eru’s name could I possibly disappear to?”

“It’s not like you’ve wandered down a hole or anything and gone somewhere we nearly couldn’t find,” Fili agreed, and his hobbit uncle let out a heavy sigh.

“Of course you’d bring up the bloody hole. Would you rather I have left your daughter down there?”

“No,” said Fili. “But that doesn’t make us any less concerned for you.”

Bilbo had no answer for that but he did carefully shift sideways to allow Fili to sit down beside him. Grateful for the chance to rest and for his uncle giving him space to join him, he gingerly sat on the cold stone. “Chilly down here,” Fili commented quietly.

“It’s not the best of places,” Bilbo admitted. “I just keep hoping for something peaceful. Quiet. Calming. There’s just so much noise up there, so many dwarves wandering about, I just don’t know how anyone could get anything done. And as much as I love a good candle, I’m half afraid the entire mountain will go up in flames, there’s so much light everywhere, and I understand the whole “Lukhudfest” literally meaning “Festival of Lights” but-”

“It’s called Warrior’s Ear.”

Bilbo went still beside him. Fili glanced at his uncle who looked more like a statue than a hobbit and quietly continued. “After a long battle, an intense battle at that, many will still hear the noise of the battle following them. Every noise seems too much, every light seems too fierce. Yet you cannot sit still. You’re all but compelled to keep going, moving, doing something.”

“When does it end?” Bilbo whispered. So Fili had been right. Uncle would want to know.

“It can take years. But usually only months. I imagine you’ll be feeling right as rain any day now. You can talk with Oin if you like, he might have a remedy of some sort.”

Silence fell, but it was companionable now, not the tense sort he’d found when he’d discovered his hobbit uncle down this way. His other uncle would be having fits if he knew where Bilbo was, so Fili figured this was the sort of secret he’d keep to himself. It still made him want to force Bilbo a few inches back from the ledge.

Thankfully Bilbo did it for him, scooting back and closer to Fili. He did so to fuss at Fili’s cloak, making sure it was straightened and covering most of him, but still, at least he’d moved. “You’ll catch your death down here,” Bilbo said, and his voice shook slightly at his words.

Fili shook his head. “I’ll be all right. And so will Uncle.”

With a sigh his other uncle hung his head. “I know that, truly. I just…”

After a moment, he shook himself. “Thank you,” Bilbo said, voice soft but genuine, and he even managed a small smile for Fili. “I’ll talk with Oin. I didn’t know such a thing was possible.”

“It’s not like hobbits are particularly knowledgeable about war,” Fili said. “Though the way you’d hear Dwalin talk about it, he’d take an entire hobbit force in the Guard if you gave him half a chance.”

Bilbo snorted. “He could just take Esmeralda and be fit to handle things. Honestly. Her child is going to be a menace.”

“He’ll be in good company with my three then.” Three children. It wasn’t often that such a blessing was given. And to _him_ of all people.

He was lucky he’d survived long enough to see it happen.

As if thinking similar things, Bilbo reached out and tugged him in until his head leaned against his uncle’s shoulder. “Your uncle’s not the only one I’ve worried about, you know,” Bilbo said quietly. “You and Legolas gave us quite the fright. All of you regularly turn my hair white with worry.”

“Does it help if we don’t do it on purpose?” Fili asked.

Bilbo finally gave a laugh, Fili’s main goal. “Not much, but it helps in some way.”

They sat there for a bit, side by side, before Fili sighed. “Not to be responsible and all, but we _were_ all sent to come find you.”

“ _All_ of you?” Bilbo sputtered, jumping to his feet. His ankle didn’t seem to bother him a whit and Fili felt relief. “Honestly, you lot are dreadful, and your uncle the worst of them all-“

Fili said nothing, merely smiled as they headed back up to find the rest of the company, Bilbo muttering all the while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I have to say, I was overwhelmed by the number of responses. Hello everyone! I've missed chatting with you all and am ridiculously humbled that you've stuck around all these years. Seriously, the goofy smile on my face was all for you guys. 
> 
> This chapter is shorter just because of where the break works best, and then we'll finish up the rest in time for the holidays.

“How many trees do you want again?”

Thorin glanced up from where Legolas and Ori stood on the opposite side of his desk. One look out the window showed that it was dark outside, well past time to do anything outside. “Trees?”

“For decorating,” Legolas said. “You had mentioned both Dernwyn and Bilbo speaking fondly of decorating trees for the festival.”

It was one of the precious few things that had made Bilbo genuinely light up, the thought of “trimming the tree” with baubles and tinsel and garlands of berries and candies. Not that Bilbo was truly despondent all the time because he wasn’t. Bilbo was as sunny as he always was. But something kept pulling at Bilbo’s spirit, something unsettled inside of him, and Thorin didn’t know what to do about it. He felt like a child, clinging gamely to anything that might entice Bilbo and bring joy to his beloved.

“As many as could be spared, I would hope,” Thorin said. “I do not need a forest in my halls, though.” He paused for a moment. “How many trees could be spared without taking the light from the forest?”

Legolas’s face only softened slightly, but his eyes went bright with emotion and fondness. Thorin supposed he’d earned that: not many dwarves thought to consider the forest as anything except fuel for the fire and tool handles. Thorin had known his elf-son long enough to know that wasn’t the case.

He also remembered the Ents. Cutting down a tree took on a different meaning when the tree could fight back.

“I have at least a dozen,” Legolas told him. “They are trees whose spirits have already moved on, and their trunks soon to be felled by the wind or storm. One stands tall enough to nearly fill the great hall, and I imagine, if done properly, we could get it inside without losing all of its needles.”

Thorin frowned. “Needles?”

“Pine trees,” Ori told him. “Evergreens. No oaks or maples or anything like that. Dernwyn said they usually had bushes in Rohan but every now and then someone would bring in a pine. Bilbo concurred.”

Then pine it would be. The halls would smell divine, more than they already did with Bombur’s cooking. “Then bring that one. And any of the others you see fit to bring. Bring one straight up to our main room for us to all share. I leave the decorating of the large one to Dernwyn and Bilbo and their discretion.”

Legolas’s smile fell slightly, and when he spoke, he was more serious than Thorin had seen in some time. “Would you like a separate tree for your room, yours and Bilbo’s? I would cut down a fresh one if so, to remain longer and stay sweeter smelling.”

“Do not upset your forest, Legolas,” Thorin said with a shake of his head. “Just one in the main room will do.”

“It would not upset the woods,” Legolas told him. “Not if it helped uplift a soul in need.”

So he had seen it, too. That didn’t particularly surprise him, as Legolas was keen of sight in more than one way. Still, Ori’s face reflected his own concern, showing that more than one person had seen Bilbo’s flagging spirits. “He’ll be all right,” Thorin said. He just needed to believe it for himself.

“I do not think the battle has left him completely,” Legolas said quietly. “Nor do I think our attempts to distract him from the anniversary of the battle have worked well.”

“Maybe just…let him be?” Ori said, though it was with a great deal of hesitation. “He’s taken to wandering off on his own for a bit. I think he’s looking for some peace and quiet. Which, let’s be honest, there isn’t a lack of noise in the mountain at the moment.”

Dis had said something similar when he’d mentioned Bilbo’s recent proclivity to wandering the mountain and disappearing, for hours sometimes, in the oddest of places. It was as if he were searching for something and had yet to find it. Though, after Fili had come and spoken to him about Bilbo potentially suffering from Warrior’s Ear, Thorin had made certain Oin came to speak with his husband. Peace and quiet were often the best way to approach Warrior’s Ear, and even Thorin had to admit that their mountain was livelier and noisier than it usually was.

Still, the thought of letting Bilbo go off on his own, wandering about with a soul sick from the battle nearly a year ago, it left Thorin feeling ill as well.

Before he could say anything, however, Esmeralda and Bilbo wandered in. “I’m done with him, your turn,” Esmeralda said. She had tinsel in her curls and Thorin wasn’t certain whether it was on purpose or had fallen from decorating.

Bilbo made a face. “I’ve just spent the last three hours helping you arrange garlands and you’re ‘done’ with me?”

“For now,” Esmeralda said, a gleam in her eyes. “I’ll come fetch you when I need you.”

“I’m not a _hound_ , Esse.”

Thorin shook his head with a fond grin. His husband, pretending to be indignant, just to make Esmeralda laugh. She turned to go with a smile.

“Wait!” Bilbo said, making Esmeralda stop in her tracks. “I had something for you I was going to give you, hold on,” and he hurried off to the other room. At least he didn’t appear to be limping. The ankle had been giving him more grief than usual lately.

“It better not be more mistletoe,” Esmeralda muttered under her breath. “I’ve enough of the stuff as it is.”

Mistletoe? “Is that not a plant that chokes the life of others?” he asked.

Legolas smiled. “It is. I asked the same question. Apparently hobbits use it, after removing it from other plants, and hang it in doorways in order to catch someone and kiss them.”

“It’s good luck for the couple,” Esmeralda piped in. “I had a few from lads that wanted to say they’d kissed someone. Bilbo never had anyone that met him, he was always abandoned in the doorways.”

It was Ori’s turn to frown. “Abandoned? When I heard Bilbo tell it, he said he had no one to meet under the mistletoe.”

Esmeralda’s gaze narrowed. “He said that? Of course he would, what am I thinking. That’s nowhere near true - he waited under the mistletoe twice for different people and never got so much as a peck. I’d go over and brush a kiss against his cheek, just so he could say he’d gotten a kiss beneath the mistletoe, but he never got anyone to kiss him, not really.”

Thorin carefully set aside his work to ask more questions, but Bilbo returned just then, a long, knitted scarf in hand. “I’ve just finished it this morning,” Bilbo said. “There’s a matching one for Merry. He’s too small for it now, mind, but-”

Esmeralda immediately put hers on and smiled broadly. “I love it! Thank you, Bilbo.” She headed for the door, then stopped and peered at all four of them. “Remember that,” she told Thorin cryptically, then left, scarf still wrapped around her neck.

Bilbo frowned. “Remember? Remember what?”

Legolas gently cleared his throat in the ensuing silence. “Well, thank you for helping answer the question,” he said. “We will go tomorrow at first light. Bilbo, will you be down tomorrow to help prepare for the festivities?”

“Of course,” Bilbo said with a smile. “I’ll see you down there at some point. Until then, go rest.”

They left as quietly as they’d come, though not without Legolas gently winking at Thorin again. It was reassurance, both in their plan of trees and in Thorin not being alone in worrying about Bilbo. They had come through worse: they would get through this, too.

A yawn drew him back to his husband. “I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely _exhausted_ ,” Bilbo said, moving about the room to straighten things. “Esse is a force of nature. I wasn’t aware that she’d have that much energy after dealing with Merry all the time, but she’s worn me out. She wore Kili out, too, and I honestly didn’t think that was possible.”

“Are you well?” Thorin asked before he realized the words were out. Bilbo stopped what he was doing and glanced back at him. In the light of the fire roaring in the hearth, Bilbo’s eyes looked like jewels, or perhaps the shine from the water, or even the sun rising for the first time in the morning. It had been taken over by storms after the battle, had lost the shine that was all Bilbo, but Thorin could see it now in his husband’s eyes. Whatever caused him to seek solace in random places, it hadn’t taken his spirit.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo assured him. “Truly. I know you’re worried and all-“

“I’m always ‘worried and all’ where you’re concerned,” Thorin said dryly.

Bilbo ignored him. “-but I’m _fine_. I just need some peace and quiet every now and then.”

“Warrior’s Ear?”

With a sigh Bilbo leaned against the nearest chair. “That’s what Oin said. It did sound an awful lot like what I’ve been feeling. It’s not just in my ears, though. It feels like a nest of bees is buzzing around in my chest.”

He glanced up at Thorin at that and hurried to continue when he saw the look on his face. “It’s not like that all the time, mind, just happens every now and then whenever the noise gets to be too much. Oin said that’s fairly common as well.”

Still, the fact that it was going on at all left Thorin concerned. And how long it had been happening, he didn’t know, because Bilbo had refused to tell him. He had probably not wanted to worry anyone.

Thorin had learned a lot of things over the past year since the battle for Erebor. He had learned what it meant to think his sister-sons were dead and gone. He had learned to grieve for his cousin and help support the cousin left behind. He had learned to be patient, to find joy in the smaller moments as they’d helped Erebor rebuild.

But above all else, Thorin had learned that he could not worry forever over his husband. And he knew he was bordering on that right then and there.

He moved towards Bilbo and gently cradled his beloved’s face in his hands. Bilbo’s eyes drifted shut as he leaned into the touch. “I know with certainty that you will move past the Warrior’s Ear and find peace and quiet again,” he said softly. “I know with even more certainty that this Yule and Lukhudfest will be one to remember, and that I am enjoying each day of the festivities because it is a combination of you and I. I will not, however, stop worrying for you. I will do my best to temper it. But it will always be there.”

Bilbo gave a quiet sigh. “I’m not asking you to not worry. It’d be silly of me to ask that when I worry about you just as much. I just…need time, that’s all.”

“Then time you shall have. And I will be here every second of that time and beyond.”

He pressed a kiss to the golden curls and felt the smile against his palms. “Come, let’s go to bed,” he murmured. “I’ve been informed by Kili that the best day of these festivities starts tomorrow morning.”

Bilbo grinned, bright and beautiful. “That’s because Kili’s acting like a child, rambunctious and counting down the days until he can open the gift that Legolas got for him.”

Kili would enjoy it. Legolas had spent a great deal of time in the forge, working to craft the bead to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary. While more predisposed to working with wood, Legolas had proved himself a formidable metalworker, working in the forge as if he’d grown up in it. Yes, Kili would love it.

“Thorin? What are these?”

Thorin glanced over. Bilbo had moved to the bed and currently had a ribbon hanging from his hand and a very disgruntled look on his face. On the ribbon were tied several bells.

“I believe they are festive,” Thorin said, managing to keep his face straight. “Were you not the one who spoke about jingling bells for Yule?”

“That was Dernwyn and that is _not_ what these are for.”

“Aren’t they?”

“You put them _on my pillow_.”

“Then I would take them as a warning,” Thorin said. Bilbo narrowed his gaze. “It’s far easier to find you if you make noise wherever you wander.”

Bilbo tossed the bells at him and Thorin did finally laugh then, bells in hand. “That’s a warning that your husband beat you at conkers and bells are roughly the same size as a walnut,” Bilbo told him. “And you’ll find those bells where you don’t like them.”

“As I recall, you didn’t win at conkers, when last we played.”

“Because you _cheated_ , you ridiculous dwarf! And if you like bells in your hair so much, you ought to put some in your beard!”

He put the bells up on the mantle and left them there, and Bilbo didn’t touch them. The last thing he needed were any other baubles in his beard – Hildili had already tried twice and Merry had wound up getting a sweet stuck in it just that morning.

Still, if he got half the chance, they’d go into Bilbo’s hair. Particularly under his hair; there was a little patch of silver back there that would match the bells fairly well…

The morning dawned bright and sunny and cold. It only made Kili burrow into his husband all the more, seeking warmth under the quilts.

Above him, Legolas huffed in amusement. “Are you going to stay abed all day today?”

“It’s cold out there,” Kili said, and that definitely sounded like a whine. “I think I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

“Well, that’s a pity, as I had a lovely gift planned for you but it’s on the other side of the room-“

In a flash Kili had tossed the quilts and furs aside and had hurried to the end of the bed. “Come on then, what are you waiting for?” Kili demanded, and earned a full laugh from Legolas. It just made him love his beautiful husband all the more. His husband who was alive, smiling brilliantly-

-and still not out of bed. “Well?” Kili insisted. “There’s gifts to be had!”

“You sound like Holdred,” Legolas told him, but he was finally getting out of bed and reaching for his robe. It had been an anniversary gift five years ago, sewn with the threads denoting the line of Durin and the royal elves of the Greenwood. It had taken Kili some work to find it, but Ori and Bilbo had been eager to research for him, and they’d finally found a tapestry to give Dori and his apprentices some guidance. The blue and green only made Legolas’s eyes all the more startling.

Legolas gently brushed his nose against Kili’s. “You were lost, for a moment,” Legolas murmured. “What ails you?”

“No ailing,” Kili promised. “All good thoughts.” That gift had been warmly welcomed. Kili hoped this anniversary gift, marking ten years, would be just as acceptable.

Legolas hummed and pulled something from his pocket, and Kili frowned at the small wooden box wrapped neatly with ribbon. “I thought you said my gift was on the other side of the room,” Kili said.

His husband’s lips turned up. “One of them is. This is for the anniversary. It felt right for you to have it today, though I am early by quite a bit.”

It made Kili grin. “You and I had very similar thoughts. I’ve your anniversary gift, too.” He reached over to a shelf and pulled it out from behind various pots laden with plants. He wasn’t surprised Legolas hadn’t seen it, even as keen of sight as he was. It had hidden well with the other plants.

He presented the pot with an exaggerated flourish, beaming. Legolas glanced at the plant with clear curiosity. “What is it?” Legolas asked. He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. “It smells wonderful.”

It was a beautiful plant to look at, with golden shimmering petals that turned white near the base of the flower, and the greenest of leaves and stems. The petals were soft to the touch, and Kili watched as Legolas reverently ran his fingers over them. “I have never seen this plant before,” Legolas admitted.

“That’s because it didn’t exist until a few months ago,” Kili told him. When Legolas frowned, he continued, all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Do you remember that flower you brought back from the palace in Greenwood? Well, Oin showed it to a friend who’s a botanist, and they talked about how it looked to be similar to an old dwarven plant that hadn’t been seen in a long time, one that died out with Smaug. It was a medicinal plant but also used in art and perfumes. They did some sort of grafting or re-seeding or something, I don’t know, but the end result was, well, this. Dwarf and elf combined to create a hearty plant with gold leaves but the greenest and thickest of stems. They’re calling it ‘The Prince’s Heart’ in honor of you.”

It wasn’t often that Kili saw his husband completely lost for words. Legolas tried to speak but couldn’t get the words out, and his eyes shone. He set aside the wooden box and took the plant with hands that trembled. One finger ran down the golden petal again. “’The Prince’s Heart’?” he managed to ask at last.

“For you,” Kili said softly. “Because you’re my heart.”

Legolas kept the pot in one hand and caught Kili behind the head with his other and brought him in for a fierce, swift kiss. Kili melted, just like he always did, and his hand rested against Legolas’s chest where his heart beat.

When they parted, Legolas reached over to the bed frame where he’d set the wooden box down. “This seems almost paltry, in comparison,” he said with a wet laugh. “But I hope you will enjoy it all the same.”

Kili wasted no time and tore the ribbon off to pop the top of the box open. Inside was a beautiful golden bead, intricately cut with Kili and Legolas’s names written in Sindarin. It had been forged, that was clear, but the craftsmanship didn’t look like anyone’s that Kili had known. The edges were curved and curled over, and it looked-

Elvish. His eyes shot to Legolas. “You forged this?” he whispered.

“Dwalin and Thorin helped,” Legolas admitted. “I am not the most adept at working a fire and anvil, but they helped and left the design to me. I hope-“

He got nothing else because Kili grabbed him by his wedding braid and pulled him in for another firm kiss. That kiss led to another, and another, and yet another until Kili was nearly dizzy.

“The others will be opening gifts in the main room,” Legolas whispered against his lips.

“Plenty of time, then.”

They wound up at least half an hour late and were met with raised eyebrows and knowing grins when they finally arrived, Legolas’s bead in Kili’s wedding braid and Kili’s plant tucked into Legolas’s.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is December 24th here where I live, and my family and I will be celebrating Christmas. I wish everyone a blessed Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, Solstice, or whatever holiday brings you peace and joy.
> 
> And if you don't celebrate any of those, or are just not feeling the holidays this year due to loss or any reason, I hope you find new blessings that come your way, and that the days ahead will be less stressed and bring you a smile.
> 
> To everyone, I wish you: happy almost-clearance-sales-on-fresh-holiday-sweets day! ;) Remember, it's your last chance for fresh chocolates and candies until Valentine's Day!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this last chapter and has enjoyed the fic thus far. If you have, please drop me a line and let me know; I'd love to hear from you. That would be the best gift y'all could give me.

When Dernwyn opened her gift of an embroidered sword hilt, proclaiming her ancestry to anyone who would look, her smile went impossibly wide. Even wider still when Fili admitted to having taken his hand to it with Dori’s and Gloin’s help.

Dwalin looked thrilled with the new hat that Ori had made him, but went quiet and touched whenever Ori also produced a family tapestry, honoring Balin and showing a carefully drawn Ori and Dwalin united. He got a kiss for that in front of everyone, even as Hildili made a face.

Bilbo wasn’t surprised when he was showered with a least twenty different handkerchiefs, each one with a small message from the company member who’d made it. Dis looked far too pleased with herself when she dropped them all on his head, making everyone laugh uproariously while he sputtered and finally chuckled under them all.

Of course, Dis herself wound up showered with gifts from her grandchildren, and she spent the majority of her time covered with Holdred, Hildili, and Merry, all while balancing Baldrin in her arms. She didn’t look the slightest bit unhappy with her predicament.

Thorin gave Bilbo no gift. Bilbo made no mention of it, and the others followed his lead until Gimli’s curiosity seemed to get the better of him. At that, Bilbo finally pouted and informed them all that he’d been told to wait until after the feast. Thorin said nothing but smiled, as did Tauriel, Esmeralda, and Nori.

The room rang with laughter and joy, as did many other rooms throughout the mountain.

Some of the traditions of Yule and Lukhudfest had been very different from dwarf to man to hobbit, only making the final festival that much more fun, from decorating trees to stacking jewels to mistletoe sprigs hung from numerous doorways (the dwarves had been very taken with the notion and most doorways were hard to get through these days). Other traditions had been similar in nature, such as garlands and wreaths, sweet treats and gifts.

One tradition, however, had been the same in practically every facet, and it was this tradition that Bilbo was, perhaps, the most heartbroken to see that they shared.

The candles nestled in the trees inside the great hall made the surrounding jewels gleam, warm and brilliant and colorful. Each one gave the room a constant glow. There were other candles too, on the altar they’d set up off to the side of the largest tree, small, shorter candles that wouldn’t shine for long. They didn’t need to.

One by one everyone came up to light a candle in honor of a loved one now long gone and to leave a name by the candle. Many dwarves had been lost in the battle almost a year ago. Bilbo recognized a lot of the names and felt the loss they’d suffered all the more keenly. He helped Esmeralda light a candle for Saradoc and felt a pang for the young hobbit who’d fought so bravely to help his cousin get away safely. He hadn’t been surprised at Bofur’s presence, always by Esse’s side, only grateful for it. It had helped lessen his own grief.

It was when Dwalin came forward, though, that Bilbo finally broke, tears spilling over his cheeks. Dwalin, too, had tears trailing down his face, letting them roll unashamedly. He brought forward a name plate, carved from stone, and settled it gently against one of the candles. Thorin solemnly handed him a lit wick and had to help him hold it, Dwalin’s hand shook so. When the candle was lit, only then did Bilbo join them both, taking up Dwalin’s other side, keeping him buffeted and protected.

Dwalin didn’t say anything. He did reach out, however, and rested a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo caught his hand with his and let Dwalin grasp it as hard as he could. They stayed there for a long time as other dwarves moved around them to light their own candles and remember their own loved ones.

They finally moved away when they had been left on their own for a bit. Bilbo wasn’t even surprised when he turned and found the company waiting for them, ready to embrace them.

The feast that followed was glorious and delicious. Many speeches were given but most of them were the sort that Bilbo figured were traditional, the “best wishes this festive season” and “may Durin shine upon you strength and prosperity” and “a toast to Durin’s Sons” and whatnot. A lot of wine and ale was imbibed. A _lot_. Enough that when the first tipsy song started being sung, Bilbo made for the kitchen. Because a rowdy group of dwarves was also a hungry group of dwarves, and they were sure to beat him to his treats that Bombur had made especially for him.

The peppermint canes hadn’t quite had the same hooking effect that the ones back in the Shire did. But Bombur had apparently had Tauriel and Legolas test them out to see if they could get them onto their ears (a sight that Bilbo was sad he’d missed) and had been pleased with the results. He’d done other shapes too, hearts and jewels and things that Bilbo hadn’t thought possible. And they’d tasted magnificent.

The little fruit pies that he’d made were delicious, too, but better still had been Dernwyn’s look of shock when Bombur had brought them around to her. She’d been speechless before she’d embraced Bombur, messy apron and all. Bilbo had to admit, the pies had been well worth Bombur’s time, and they’d been a hit thus far at the feast. The last time he’d checked, none had been left. Thus his moving towards the kitchen.

Two of the cooks still there looked as if they wanted to shoo him out, probably afraid he was there to help, but he only gestured for one of the pies. “Peppermint candy, too, if there’s any left,” Bilbo began, but he’d barely gotten the words out before he had a pie in one hand and two peppermint candies in the other. Only then did they ceremoniously toss him out.

He stood for a moment just outside the door to the kitchen and began to eat his little pie. The candies he stuck in his pocket for later. Two meant he could share with Thorin. For now, he happily made his way through the pie and watched the others.

Esmeralda was all smiles, Merry bouncing on her lap. Bofur was telling some sort of story that immediately sent a wave of roaring laughter through the group and made Dernwyn cover Hildili’s ears, even while she herself threw her head back and laughed. Fili and Kili sat beside their spouses, bright and alive. Legolas reached down the table for something with not a single twinge, and Tauriel was in the midst of some animated conversation with Gimli. Even Dwalin was grinning, a twinkle in his eye that meant trouble, but it softened to the sweetest of smiles when he glanced sideways at Ori. Nori and Dori sat next to each other, arguing with one another over something but with wide grins as they did so. Gloin and his wife sat off to the side, and Bombur’s laugh boomed at something Oin had said. Bifur had three peppermint canes stuck on his head and Hildili was going for a fourth. He looked fairly pleased by the whole thing, so Dis and Dernwyn seemed keen to let her, and no one had seen Holdred sneak away a few more of the biscuits yet.

His family, together at one table, happy and beautiful and _alive_. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, memories of the battle stealing his breath. It was hard to think of those horrible moments, however, when he had his nephews and niece and brothers and friends sitting in front of him. They were alive. The battle hadn’t taken them.

He let out a breath, then another. Yule was always good for lifting spirits and reminding one of the many gifts they’d been given. Like family. Love. Gifts one couldn’t wrap up in a cloth.

A warm presence at his side made him smile. He didn’t even have to look: he knew who it was. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing kingly things right now?”

“The feast is underway, they don’t need my help in eating it,” Thorin murmured, his breath tickling Bilbo’s ear and making him shiver. On a list of things they had time to do tonight, that was, unfortunately, not one of them. But it was another gift to add to his list of things to be grateful for.

“I didn’t wander off,” Bilbo told him, in case that was the reason Thorin had come his way.

“I know.”

At his husband’s softer tone, Bilbo turned, a frown already building. “What’s wrong? Are you sore? Do you need to rest? Is your chest-“

“My chest is fine,” Thorin promised him. “Nothing is sore save for my heart when I cannot see you. And though I _could_ see you, I found my heart still weak until I joined you.”

Whoever had said Thorin Oakenshield couldn’t be an utter sap had never met him. “Well, I’m right here,” Bilbo said, voice quiet but warm. The things this dwarf could do to him, nearly eleven years later. He hoped Thorin would always light him up from the inside out, like one of Gandalf’s fireworks, bright and warm and beautiful. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Thorin said, his smile sweet and soft. “For right here is exactly where I wanted you.”

Bilbo frowned, confused, until Thorin glanced up. He followed his gaze and blinked at the bright sprig of mistletoe dangling above their heads between Thorin’s fingers. It looked fresh and bright, though perhaps a little crumpled, as if it had been in a pocket.

Something caught in Bilbo’s throat, tight and choking, and if he let it out, it would probably sound a great deal like a sob, and that was far too ugly an emotion for the love he felt for his husband. “Have you kept that in your pocket all day?” he managed to get out.

“For the past two days,” Thorin admitted with a smile. “I wanted this to be the best Yule you have ever experienced.”

“Esse told you, didn’t she?” Of course she had.

“She may have indicated that you have missed out on the mistletoe tradition. Though,” and Thorin raised an eyebrow, “I will admit to being grateful that you had.”

Bilbo blinked. “Why?”

Thorin leaned in then, smelling like peppermint and pine and smoke from the bonfire. “Because that means that I am the only one to have you beneath the mistletoe.”

Bilbo reached out and caught Thorin by his wedding braid. Their lips met even as Thorin used his free hand to brush against Bilbo’s cheek and his redone braid. This was exactly what his younger self had wanted, all those years ago: someone to kiss him, someone to be with him, someone to love him enough to participate in a silly tradition because it mattered to him.

And Thorin was right. Bilbo was glad his only mistletoe kiss was his husband.

Sounds from the feast drew them back and reminded Bilbo that while they hadn’t been bothered up until this point, it was unlikely to remain that way. “How much longer do you think we’ll have alone?” Bilbo asked.

Thorin began to respond, then paused when voices came from the other side of the kitchen.

“Leave them _be_! They’ve not been there long!”

“Shh, you’ll ruin it!”

“Would the lot of you be _quiet_ already?”

“As if my cousin don’t know you’re all here, whisperin’ like hammers dropped on anvils.”

“You’re here too!”

Thorin shook his head but his lips curled up into a grin. Bilbo could feel laughter bubbling inside of him and he shook with the effort to keep himself quiet.

“Don’t you have children to look after?”

“Dernwyn insisted I come over here and make sure that my uncles were all right. What’s _your_ excuse?”

“’Sides wantin’ to make sure Bilbo’s all right? Bombur’s got the best sweets and I was takin’ some for Esse.”

“That would hold more merit if you weren’t _eating_ them for me too, Bo.”

“Taste-testin’. Makin’ sure they’ve not gone sour or whatnot.”

“No need to taste them. Just fine the way they are. I cook good sweets. Quit stealing them all.”

“Oh Mahal,” Thorin muttered, rolling his eyes. Bilbo finally let loose the laugh and found that once he started, it was difficult to stop. Thankfully he had a very solid dwarf to lean on, one who smiled at him like he hung the moon and stars.

This dwarf. His husband. _Thorin_.

They stepped into the kitchen where nearly everyone was doing a very poor job of being stealthy and sent them all back out to the feast, much to their chagrin and amusement. Then they headed out as well, moving down the long tables and greeting those they passed, sharing well-wishes as they went.

There was peace, here, in the great hall. Erebor had finally found peace, and Bilbo took a solid deep breath in before letting it out.

Perhaps he could talk to Thorin about some sort of inner sanctum. Someplace just his own. There was that ledge he’d found on the side of the mountain, behind a fire-scarred hole, that might hold some merit. Maybe he could claim that and everyone could just let him be when he was out there.

For now, there was nowhere more pressing to be than tucked up against his husband. With a smile he wrapped his hand around Thorin’s. _My husband,_ he thought.

He could almost hear the response as Thorin gazed at him with bright blue eyes. _My beloved_.

The night had gone mostly quiet. Off in the distance, lights from Dale could be seen. Bard had loved the idea of Yule, and most of the city of Dale would be coming to join in another day of festivities tomorrow. Bombur was looking forward to it, or so Bofur had told Thorin. Bofur was just looking forward to eating more of it, he was sure.

Up in their room now, safely ensconced away from the worst of the noise, Thorin could still hear the revelry several stories beneath them. The mountain echoed more in the cold. The wind howled outside, and even the fire made a loud crackling noise.

Bilbo stood by the open balcony door, wrapped tightly in his royal feast robe, but clearly more eager to be outside than in. His foot tapped anxiously against the stone, the only part of him that seemed to be moving.

Well. Thorin had something that might help with that.

Without preamble he dropped the item on Bilbo’s head, startling his husband. He knew the instant Bilbo had realized what the item had done, though, because he whirled around and looked at Thorin, eyes wide. “What is it?” he asked, voice slightly loud.

Thorin lifted the ear muffs back off his husband’s head and rested them around his neck. Tauriel had found him wood willing to bend for the band above his head, and Nori had easily found cut gems heavy enough to hold them in place. Esmeralda had used the softest down feathers Thorin had ever seen and lined the inside of the ear muffs.

It was the soft putty around the edges of the ear muffs, however, that did the magic. “Thorin?”

“When dwarves are in the mines for long periods of time, they will often use putty to block their ears,” Thorin told him. “I simply made ear muffs with enough putty to help block the sound out when worn. They should keep you warm, too.”

Bilbo slowly put them back on, and Thorin watched as his husband transformed before him, tension leaking out of him, eyes fluttering shut in peace. Thorin had tried them himself and knew that they worked to block most of the outside noise, but to see Bilbo use them now was a balm to his soul.

Bilbo took them off at last, and his smile wavered with clear emotion. “Thank you,” he said, voice trembling. “Now I know why you made me wait for my gift.”

“This isn’t your gift.”

Golden eyebrows rose. “No?”

“No. This was only a remedy. _This_ is my gift.”

He pulled the cloth-wrapped gift from the inner folds of his robe. “I don’t have another gift for you,” Bilbo protested, but Thorin shook him off.

“You gave me my gift earlier.” How his husband had managed to get the teas and wool all the way from the Shire, he had no idea, but the tunic Bilbo had crafted with it was the same soft as the blankets back at Bag-End. He could feel it now, warm beneath his robe, and knew he would wear it until it was nothing more than a single thread. “It’s my turn now.”

Slowly Bilbo undid the cloth, pulling back the edges to find the prize inside. Only when he opened it did he finally sputter a laugh that was wet with tears.

Six beautiful buttons were nestled within, each one a mix of mithril and gold, each one depicting a tree with woven roots. They would well match the pin that Thorin knew Bilbo still treasured above everything else.

“You lost yours on our initial quest here,” Thorin said as Bilbo giggled helplessly. The sound made his lips turn up. “I have been remiss in not replacing them.”

“You did replace them,” Bilbo told him, wiping tears from the corners of his smile. “I have beautiful jewel buttons and gold buttons and even wooden buttons you had Legolas carve.”

“You have a lot of vests,” Thorin pointed out. “I cannot expect you to move buttons to different vests every time you need them, can I?”

Bilbo shook his head but kept the buttons cupped in his hands. “You are impossible,” he murmured, but he leaned up and caught Thorin’s lips in a kiss. “Thank you. Except now I have no idea which vest I should put them on.”

The new one that Thorin had ordered to match his own new tunic, woven from Durin blue and edged with Durin’s threads, but Thorin wouldn’t tell him that. “I’m sure you’ll find one,” he said instead with a soft smile.

Bilbo watched him carefully, then finally set the buttons down on the nearby end table. “I do have another gift for you, actually,” he said, and Thorin’s smile broadened.

“Do you?”

“I do. I may need more mistletoe, though.”

“That, beloved, can be arranged.”

The snow began to fall outside the balcony doors, soft and silent. Underneath furs and quilts, a dwarf and a hobbit were very warm indeed.


End file.
